


set the sun

by instillared



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/instillared/pseuds/instillared
Summary: Seungkwan believes things happen for a reason but, and this is just a ballpark figure, ninety-nine percent of the time the result is purely negative. Nothing good ever happens.





	set the sun

**Author's Note:**

> for anon who requested seungkwan x anyone. I made a thread based on the set the sun photos and sort of spurred this. I've been in a horrible writing slump so I finally managed to push something out. 
> 
> thank you, anon! 
> 
> I'm currently out of the country so I've been slow at working and the past month has been HELL which is why I didn't post at all. it's been a stressful trip but I come home in a few days and then I will go back to actually Writing. school took out all of my productivity and I'm sorry. thank you for being patient.

Seungkwan believes things happen for a reason but, and this is just a ballpark figure, ninety-nine percent of the time the result is purely negative. Nothing _good_ ever happens. Like when he was five years old and fell off his bike for the first time, skinned his knee so bad he thought maybe cutting off his leg would be better than living with the scraped burn that eventually healed. He refuses to acknowledge thanks to the incident he learned how to better control the brakes, instead focuses on the injury that nearly _scarred_ him and left him without a leg.

He never stopped being dramatic.

But, no, things happen for a reason and it’s entirely apparent when Seungkwan comes home from the arcade on a Sunday afternoon and there’s a very tall boy standing in his kitchen. Very Tall Boy is standing in front of the counter holding Seungkwan’s favorite Anpanman glass and Very Tall Boy has shaggy hair and is wearing _shorts_ and Very Tall Boy is leaning over his phone so Seungkwan is a tad confused when he has no idea who the intruder is.

“Can I help you?” he manages, hands gripping his messenger bag tighter as he waits for an acknowledgment.

Very Tall Boy nearly drops his phone as he turns, arms dropping to his side and _oh_.

Very Tall Boy is not an intruder.

“ _Vernon_ ,” Seungkwan lets out in an exhale, the wind completely knocked out of his chest. Very Tall Boy (Christ, he has to stop calling him that in his mind now) is, in fact, Seungkwan’s childhood best friend of nearly eleven years who disappeared without a trace one day (not true).

“Kwannie, hey-“ is all Vernon is able to say before Seungkwan nearly tears his bag off his body and moves in quick fashion towards him. Seungkwan wraps himself around Vernon, smiles to himself when he feels Vernon’s arms around his waist immediately. He sniffs, fights back tears in his eyes and holds on tight. They stay like that for a while, holding on to each other until Vernon’s phone chimes. “Ah, I- it’s Sofia. Hang on,” he mutters, face reluctant as he pulls away from Seungkwan. Seungkwan is still speechless but he slides his hand down Vernon’s arm, takes his free hand and links their fingers and Vernon smiles.

He tunes out their conversation, laughs quietly as Vernon plays with his fingers while they both lean against the countertop.  He uses this as an opportunity to take in everything.

Nearly six years ago. He remembers their super secret tree house meeting where Vernon told him the News. He had to go back to America, a place he’d spent less than a quarter of his life living, due to family circumstances. Seungkwan didn’t ask, knew it wasn’t really his place to know other than it had something to do with his grandparents on his mom’s side. A week later Vernon was gone, promising Seungkwan he’d write to him every way possible. They kept the promise for a little, trading emails and snail mail like real pen-pals. The messages grew few and far between as the months went on and suddenly all Seungkwan knew was what he saw on Facebook. Vernon, at an American school with American friends doing American things. He tried hard not to feel betrayed, knew they were both too busy with their separate lives.

 Vernon grew taller. He’s only a month younger than Seungkwan and somehow he’s completely surpassed him height-wise. He’s a little more built. His hair is a lot longer and a lot lighter, Seungkwan can make out the faint traces of unnatural colors in the ends. He has freckles; not many, but enough to show he’s definitely been in the sun a lot. His voice is deeper, a lot deeper than thirteen year old Vernon who had no idea how to deal with the newfound changes in his entire being. His smile is bigger, somehow toothier and gummier at the same time. His laugh is big and loud and Seungkwan finds it hard to tear his eyes away from Vernon’s mouth.

Seungkwan, on the other hand, hasn’t changed all that much. He’s still soft in all the wrong places, can’t seem to keep muscle on no matter how hard he pushes himself at the gym. He’s not exactly short, but he’s not exactly tall. He’s average height and waiting for another growth spurt he knows will never come. The only thing Seungkwan thinks he has going for himself is his voice. Halfway through middle school he decided to try singing and loved it. So he had that, at least. _I’ve got a face for radio so it’s fitting I can sing, at least_ he would joke.

He’s staring at the ground now and doesn’t notice Vernon’s phone call end, doesn’t feel Vernon’s fingers stroking the backside of his palm lightly. “Kwan,” breaks him out of his trance, “missed you so much.” Vernon squeezes his hand again, smiles like the sun.

 Seungkwan believes things happen for a reason. He believes Vernon had to leave for six years just so he could recognize how in love he was. He believes Vernon comes back because Seungkwan needed him, needed them to be again. He believes when there’s a decent result, it’s _really fucking good_.

He never stopped being dramatic.  

**Author's Note:**

> [tweet with me](http://www.twitter.com/instillared/)


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